


The Age of toddlers

by Sgr_A



Category: Wheel of Time - Robert Jordan
Genre: Fire dancing AU, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-06-07 04:17:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6784858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sgr_A/pseuds/Sgr_A
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Asmodean has to hold toddlers by the hand. And teach them to play with fire, sometimes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Age of toddlers

**Author's Note:**

> [The Saidin Fire Dance AU](http://siseja.tumblr.com/post/143904634946/saidin-fire-dance-au) is something I must take partial responsibility for. I will not apologize for art.

There were quite a lot of things about the Third Age, or the Age of Toddlers as Asmodean scoffed and muttered under his breath for the fifth time since waking up, that were, simply and gently put, disappointing. 

The utter lack of normal standards of living for one, he thought while washing his face and hands in a bowl. There was not even a conception of plumbing in the Aiel Waste and he'd had to pour the water in there himself. He was still a little bit sore about it. Or about how his hair never went where it was meant to just _right_ , no, it always had to do _something_ unnecessary and stupid. Like a certain child out there.

He gave up on trying to defeat his hair, another day another battle lost, and examined it in a small mirror. Okay, there _was_ some rugged kind of a charm to that specific way it curled around his neck but he had not been, was not, and would never, ever call himself _rugged_. The gleeman cloak was one thing, but it did not define the man underneath. 

He sighed, picking up the harp and going out into the freezing Aiel night. It was very close to dawn, but the only difference it made was the vague graying of the sky around where the sun would rise. He dragged his feet towards the small clearing reserved for training. 

The second absolutely, utterly abhorrent thing about the Age of Toddlers, was the fact he was all but physically bound to one of said toddlers himself. And said toddler was of course totting around and needed guidance, and Asmodean had better provide it yesterday if he wanted even the most remote shot at survival, because said toddler was the Dragon himself Reborn. Yeah.  

As all bad things do, come in threes is what they do, there was of course another thing. The channeling. 

 _Saidar_ and _saidin_ were fundamentally different. _Saidar_ was channeled exclusively by women, was described as gentle and engulfing like a river, and was accessed with a peaceful mind. _Saidin_ was likewise channeled only by men, was decidedly not gentle and it was engulfing like a thunderstorm, and was accessed by interpretative dancing. With a lightshow included. Utterly ridiculous, but that was how things were _done_. Something about focus or something like that. 

Lanfear's shield aside, the absolute filth that now covered saidin too and took the joy out of dancing aside too, thank you Lews Therin Thelamon, the light-based channeling aids of this Age were _horrendous_. 

The lights used in a more sensible day and Age were high quality, colorful ter'angreal that glowed as one channeled, the more saidin the stronger the glow, and they would work until the weaves holding them together were manually taken apart. In remote enough areas from a large distance so nobody got hurt when the bloody things exploded. Asmodean actually still had his own set of lights. The benefit of having them be a part of his literal clothes was that he was sealed together with them, something the other male Chosen hated him for. Except Ishamael. No one knew what the fuck he was ever thinking. He didn't even need to dance to channel. Either way, that didn't matter as Rand had confiscated the glowing skirts. And he was most decidedly _not_ going to set his own clothes on fire while wearing them just for the sake of channeling. 

Yes, fire. The lights used now were crude, and dangerous, and too _hot_ , Asmodean could feel the heat even while merely providing the music for al'Thor to practice to, probably because it was literal, honest-to-Great-Lord _fire_ he used in conjunction with bastardized versions of Second Age channeling aids. Asmodean supposed he should have been grateful it were the curved staves the boy was using, the tips of which were turned into torches. The were still a danger, but not to people standing several feet away unless thrown, and there were mostly no sparks flying off as they were spun. The boy had proven to be quite skilled at dancing, which was a welcome surprise. Still, it felt a bit like leading a child by the hand. A child that was his only hope for survival. Shudder. 

"In a delightful mood as always, master Natael!" Al'Thor chuckled, much closer than Asmodean expected. 

Oh. He had already arrived. And the boy was there, kneeling on the ground and shielding a small candle from the night breeze with his palms. 

"I do not have to be delighted about getting up before the sun, my Lord Dragon" Asmodean courtesied, taking his place on a large rock a safe distance away from the space al'Thor was to occupy flailing around.  

Al'Thor crouched, carefully lighting up the torch on one metal circular wire, actually two semicircular pieces that could rotate around each other and were now in the position where their torch ends faced each other. He stood up, lighting the other wire circle on the already burning one, and got into the starting position, closing his eyes. 

Asmodean started playing the music, letting the boy warm up with long graceful swings of his arms, spinning of the hoops, twirling around himself. Then he stood still, twisting and turning them while they were suspended in the air, only the fire seeming to rotate, and Asmodean felt the _saidin_ channeled. He watched the boy dance, combating the untamable nature of the One Power with perfectly harmonious, fluid movements, and well. There was more than a trickle of pride in his chest from just watching that. 

"Weave!" He finally called, out, changing the music. 

Rand stood still for a moment, gripping the circle and turning it in such a way only one half spun out, opening it into an S-shaped staff with fire on both ends. He opened the other circle too and started spinning both staves intricate, fast loops, perfectly in sync with each other, in sync with the music, in sync with the flows of the One Power intertwining and settling.  

Fire rose from the stone ground in a large circle around both of them and sank back into it as if it was never there, the shields of air and spirit formed and were quickly unmade, and after a while Asmodean completely gave up on trying to follow the weaves and what they were. He was certain the boy was making no mistakes, so he completely focused on the music, the way al'Thor moved in perfect harmony with it, the way the fire was dancing and the swirling of _saidin_ along with it. He made mistakes in playing  on purpose, but al'Thor with his channeling made none.  

If only they had the good old staves that glowed with the One Power instead of those awful fire sticks. The boy was a natural. Still it could be worse. It could be torches on chains, a hazard to absolutely everyone present in the same room. It was bad enough when unskilled channelers back in the day lost their grip on the bloody things, almost always hitting somebody in the head. Narrative comedy or something. Asmodean shuddered. 

"Beat!" He finally called out, and al'Thor did not even pause in his weaving as Asmodean put the harp down and started clapping his hands, and now Rand made his own fluid melody built around the rhythm Asmodean provided. There were some clumsy movements, but nothing that could not be hammered out with practice. 

"Silence!" He stopped clapping completely, and it was up to al'Thor to find his own rhythm, his own way of weaving.  

And he did, after a few shaking seconds of uncertainty, slip into a completely new rhythm, something grand and powerful, and the intensity of the already great weaves increased even more. Asmodean dully noted he was probably holding the boy back with this way of training, but this way the risk of the Dragon Reborn burning out well before Tarmon Gai'don was smaller. 

"Rest!" He finally yelled after the _saidin_ moving around him gained a tangible quality that actually made his hair stand on end only from being so intense. That was already a risk, but thankfully al'Thor stopped with a final weave of Fire that sent the heat from the staves in his arms into the cold stone ground, putting them out. 

He was panting slightly with sweat dripping down his face, but he was sporting a huge, excited grin, filled with the joy of being alive and in harmony and Asmodean knew it so well it made something ache in his chest. The sky was already lightening much further and it already started being warm, so he stood up with the harp in hand and nodded. 

"You're making less and less mistakes, my Lord Dragon. Good work tonight."  

He picked up a goblet of cold water and handed it al'Thor who gratefully took it and spilled some on his face before drinking it all in one go. 

"Can you channel without the dance?" He finally asked, wiping the sweat and water off of his forehead. 

"After years of practice, a particularly skilled man could do it while standing perfectly still. Ishamael could." Asmodean answered thoughtfully. 

"Good thing he's dead then. So he was like an Aes Sedai in that sense?" 

"He _was_ an Aes Sedai, just like many of the men of that Age, and _they_ still did have to dance, Lord Dragon." Asmodean mumbled bitterly. 

Rand laughed. Laughed! He was still enough of a child to do that. A child that would lead all the other toddlers of this Age. And Asmodean, who actually disliked actual children, was the one who had to direct him so he would do it good, and survive. So he himself had a chance at survival at all. 

A narrative comedy in the best sense of the word, and a particularly bleak one at that. He didn't feel like laughing. 

**Author's Note:**

> [Rand's dance in this thing.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SQFcmwk083M) Only the first part with the S staves.


End file.
